Last night without my son. Taking advantage of an unstructured day. Although I’ve not made it out of my pajamas, I’ve been out. Communed a bit with the birds. Held my goose. Checked in with nature. Mostly worked on organizing my writing, both personal and professional. Getting a method book together. Students have always enjoyed my class, and I’m fired up by the idea of communicating how music works to those for whom it seems intimidating. But seriously, does the world really need another fucking method book? Seriously? Probably not. I begin to lose my fire as I sit here, hours into the project. Sometimes it’s hard to keep my enthusiasm and convictions when I live in such isolation. So I take breaks, wandering in and out of websites, Facebook, You Tube… Looking for what I don’t now. Maybe I’m searching for hope, for inspiration, for relief.
I see old friends and musicians I’ve worked with who are still doing what they love. I envy that. I suppose if my son were here there would be less time to dwell on it. But I’m alone, at my computer, staring out into the big, big world and seeing that lots and lots is still going on out there, but it’s all going on without me! I console myself by remembering the hundreds of wonderful projects I’ve been a part of, all the great friends I’ve made through the years, all the places I’ve traveled – reminding myself that I’ve been a pretty lucky girl. But still…
Guess tonight I’m also having a hard time with getting older. I’d like to think I was better than that. I’ve worked hard these past couple of years to identify the grip of ego and become aware of the wasteful way in which it uses my energy. I’ve spent hours in thought, in meditation, in reflection. But I’m still trapped; I’m not good with knowing my hair is thinner and my waist is thicker. I should know better, yet I keep worrying the wound. I search out ancient videos of beautiful young artists and then zip off into the web to see what they look like today. I see the changes, I marvel at the transformations. I fear the changes in spite of myself. Life seems so fleeting tonight. I should be more graceful about this, really. I should show some class and just stop this nonsense. But I continue to wander, tetherless, visiting the vibrant world out there and observing the passage of time in faces I know, something mournful and unnamed relentlessly tugging at me…
I don’t have regrets. I’ve lived the shit out of my life so far. And I haven’t stopped learning by any means. It’s just different. Apples and oranges. Can’t compare the old life to the current one. Yet I seem to be doing just that…
I gotta shake it off. I may not be creating music these days, but I’m creating. Tonight I’ll just have to take my peace in that. And my son. And my birds. And that gorgeously sublime moment when it all disappears as I fall asleep, absolutely unable to do any more work.
Sometimes it feels so good to float away.
The Hillhouse 